Offside
by Romantique The Original
Summary: MAJOR SPOILERS from Season 4. There is a powerful scene at the end of Injury List that allowed the viewer to fill in the blanks. This Coach/Tami fic is one way to fill in those blanks.


Title: Offside

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Eric/Tami Drama/Angst

Rating: T for some language.

Summary: MAJOR SPOILERS from Season 4. There is a powerful scene at the end of Injury List that allowed the viewer to fill in the blanks. This fic is one way to fill in those blanks.

Disclaimer: MAJOR SPOILERS from Season 4. This fan fiction occurs at the end of Episode 11: Injury List.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

**offside:**

when any part of a player's body is beyond his _line of scrimmage_ when the ball is _snapped_; a _foul_ punishable by a 5-yard penalty.

_Dive Bar in East Dillon_

_Late Friday night_

Nearly crying in his beer, Buddy Garrity, a recent convert to the East Dillon Boosters, was flat out depressed after the Lions-Wescott game.

"I just can't believe we lost," the Booster lamented. "The season's over. Luke's out. We're done. You did your best." Then, Buddy began to stand up from the barstool, reached into his wallet, and threw some cash onto the bar to cover the tab and the tip. "We gotta go. It's late. T Tami Taylor is gonna kill me for keeping you out this late. C'mon."

Next to him, staring way off in the distance, holding onto the long neck of his bottle of Lone Star beer as if it was some kind of a tether to what happened that night, the losing Coach Eric Taylor flatly responded, "Why don'tcha, sit down? Let's have another drink."

An uncharacteristic response from the coach, Buddy looked over at his troubled friend in quiet disbelief.

Looking back at Buddy, Eric painfully admitted, "I don't wanna go home yet."

That night, the two men pretty much closed the bar. Buddy held back by nursing one last beer so that he would be able to drive, while Eric had _several_ more.

_Hours later_

It was well after 2:00 a.m. by the time Buddy finally dropped Eric off in front of his house. The house was dark. The entire street was dark.

"Are you going to be okay with Tami?" Buddy wanted to know. As long as he had known the coach, he had never known Eric to test the marital waters. That had been Buddy's territory, and the consequences had been disastrous. Buddy idealized Eric's marriage to Tami; the whole town did. It was painful to watch his friend deal with the challenges hard times can bring to the state of matrimony, and it was even more painful to see his ideal tested before his very eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, Eric answered in a flat, even tone, "I'm fixin' to find out. See ya, Buddy."

Closing the car door behind him as quietly as he could, Eric began a weaving, long walk up the sidewalk and struggled with putting his key into the lock on the front door. He found that the inside of the house was as dark as the outside. Tami had not left the lights on for him. That one, intentional gesture spoke volumes.

As Eric's eyes adjusted to the darkness, there was also no one waiting up for him in the living room. All he could hear was silence and could only surmise that his wife went to bed mad, and he couldn't blame her if she was. He didn't call to tell her he was going to be out late, nor did he answer her calls, allowing them to go straight to voice mail.

Partially not wanting to wake Gracie, but more not wanting to wake Tami, Eric quietly stumbled over to the sofa. He toed off his athletic shoes, grabbed a nearby throw, and stretched himself out on the sofa. The beers he drank did their job, allowing him to drift off to sleep and not think about how all his hard work this season was probably for nothing, not to think about his uncertain future at East Dillon High.

_Very early the next morning_

Eric was abruptly awakened by the slamming of the front door. Hung over and disoriented, it took him a minute to remember why he did not wake in his own bed, much less figure out who had just slammed the door.

Rays of early morning sunlight glinting through the living room blinds made his pounding head ache even more. _"Damn," _he mumbled to himself. With his eyes tightly clenched, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, holding his heavy, hung over head in his hands.

"Do you want me to put on some coffee?" Julie asked from the kitchen. She was surprised to see her father had spent the night in their living room.

Frankly embarrassed to be the subject of his daughter's discovery, Eric raked his fingers through his mussed hair and, without making eye contact, mumbled, "That'd be great. Thank you."

He looked at the wall clock. It was 7:30 a.m.

"You're welcome," she said, as she filled the glass decanter with water at the sink.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, painfully squinting through the bright sun light, still trying to figure out the noise that woke him. He found himself answering his daughter at least a beat behind.

"She left with Gracie," Julie said, trying to keep her voice down. "She had something she had to do at the school." After the coffee was started, she asked, "Do you want me to bring you some aspirin?"

"I'd appreciate that," he nodded very slowly so as not to slosh his brain against his skull. Damn if he wasn't paying for the night, before. He then stood and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

On his way back to the living room, as he passed by the kitchen, Julie handed him a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. She couldn't help but notice her father looked very rough.

"Bless you," Eric whispered, shaking four aspirin out of the bottle and downing them with the water. "What's your mom doin' at school so early on a Saturday mornin'?"

"I don't know. She said she'd be back in a couple of hours," Julie answered, taking the empty glass back from her father. "Would you like some toast with your coffee?"

Feeling the aspirin travel down his esophagus, on its way to his empty, queasy stomach, he answered, "I probably should eat somethin'. Thanks, Monkey Noodle."

Julie watched as her father almost stumbled on his way back to the sofa in the living room. She couldn't help but sense something was seriously wrong between her folks. She had asked her mom earlier if everything was alright. Her mother assured her it was, but Julie wasn't buying it. She knew her mom was having trouble at her school; that a parent was trying to get her fired. But what would that have to do with her hung-over father sleeping alone in the living room?

A short time later, Julie returned to the sofa with a couple of pieces of buttered toast and a cup of hot coffee. Her Dad's head was leaned, far back into the back of the sofa. His eyes were closed waiting for the aspirin to kick in.

"Here you go," Julie announced.

Eric begrudgingly opened his eyes and caught a whiff of the fragrant coffee. "Thank you," he whispered and slowly shifted his weight to an upright position, so as not to jar his aching head.

"You're welcome," Julie nodded, placing the small plate of toast on the nearby coffee table, within reach.

Just as Eric was taking his first sip of the coffee, the thud of the newspaper being delivered rattled the front door.

Looking at her father, Julie announced, "I'll get it."

Her father wasn't about to argue with her. He could somewhat handle his pounding head, so long as he didn't move. A moment later, Julie again returned with the paper. As she attempted to hand it to her Dad, he quickly tossed it on the table. He had to get his headache down to a roar before he could even attempt to focus on fine newsprint.

After a moment, Julie decided to go for it and ask the obvious, "Dad, are you and Mom okay?" The concern in her voice was unmistakable.

"We're fine," her father answered in a very short, irritated tone and then, he took another sip of his coffee. Immediately catching himself, he consciously changed to a softer tone of voice and shared, "It's just been tough lately, too much goin' on. You know that."

"What I know is both of you tell me everything is fine," Julie was becoming frustrated, "when it's clear that you're not okay. Mom is not okay."

There was no escaping the fact that his oldest daughter knew he had slept on the sofa last night, something they both knew he never did. Now, Julie knew what he had known for some weeks.

Closing his eyes to collect his dulled thoughts, he let out a pent up sigh and began, "You know how your mother and I are always there for one another?" Clutching the coffee cup in his hands, he continued, "Always have the other's back?" After a pause, he continued, "For the first time, at the same time, she can't help me with my stuff, _and_ I can't help her with hers."

The eyes of the father and daughter connected. "It's been tough this season, for both of us … for _all_ of us." _And lonely_, he thought to himself. He could only imagine that Tami felt loneliness, too. "And I'm sorry for that."

Silently, Julie shook her head to acknowledge what he said. There was sadness in her eyes. There was sadness in her father's eyes, as well.

"I love your momma," Eric said. "I'm not goin' anywhere," he tried to reassure his daughter, as well as himself. "Marriage isn't always easy, but Tami and both know that. I just think we're bein' tested, that's all. We'll get through this." Then, he gave his daughter a wink.

Julie wanted to believe him.

_A couple of hours later …_

A pot of coffee, a hot shower, and four more aspirin later, Eric was once again beginning to feel like a human being. A short time later, he received a call from Coach Crowley, informing him that the Dillon Panthers called an emergency Saturday meeting for 2:00 p.m. at East Dillon's field with the Conference Director, to discuss the viability of using the Lion's field for next week's game. Evidently, the Panther's filed a complaint claiming the Lion's field was not playable. Eric directed Coach Crowley to move the Saturday practice out to 4:00 p.m.

"_What next?"_ he asked himself after hanging up with Coach Crowley.

Eric was beginning to feel the same heaviness he felt at the bar last night. If one more thing happened before he could resolve his myriad of his existing problems and responsibilities, he felt he was going to lose it. He could not afford to lose it; losing it was simply not an option.

Changing into his Lion's work clothes, he decided he couldn't handle waiting for a heavy conversation with Tami now, at least not until after the meeting with the Conference Director. He feared she wouldn't understand, especially after what he did to her last night. Once he was finished tying his shoes, he yelled down the hallway to tell Julie the school called him and that he'd be back in the evening after practice. He asked for her to tell her mother. Then, he grabbed his red cap, jacket, sunglasses and car keys, but before heading out the front door … he walked over to his bottle of Scotch, poured himself a shot, and downed it in one hard swallow. _Courage in a bottle._ He needed that shot to bring his frustration and fury down a notch, to get through yet another, crushing day.

_Later that evening …_

Driving home after Saturday practice, Eric was dog tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally spent, he honestly thought he could go to bed and sleep for a week straight.

The meeting with William Simmons, the Conference Director, was just another load of Joe McCoy-made crap. The result of the meeting regarding the viability of using East Dillon's playing field: Eric and the team would have to patch divots in the field with sod before Friday's game. He organized a work crew of team members, after practice on Monday. Just another task to add onto his never ending list of _'things to do,'_ but at least this item had a solution and an end date.

Earlier that afternoon, Eric tried calling Tami to test the waters at home, but his call went straight to her voice mail. She had not returned his call_. "Offside,"_ he thought. A penalty for the calls he failed to return last night. He just wanted to go home, face the music, climb into bed, and go to sleep. If there was a silver lining, tomorrow was Sunday … and he planned on sleeping in as late as he could. He had to recoup so that he could coach the big game against the Dillon Panthers on Friday. The Lion's season may be over, but this cross-town, Big Cat grudge-match week was only beginning.

Finally, Eric arrived home. This time, the porch light was on.

"Hey, Hon?" he called, as he came in the door.

"Hey," Tami answered from the living room. She was sipping a glass of wine. "Care to join me?" she asked as she watched him unload his keys and athletic bag onto the kitchen counter.

"I would," he answered, leaning down near the sofa to give her a kiss. She tasted of Chardonnay. Then, he took the seat beside her. "Babe, I know it was wrong for me not to call and let you know where I was last night. And I want to apologize. I really didn't plan on being out so late. It just _happened_."

"Buddy called for you," she said, unbeknownst to her husband. "He said you were having a hard night."

"Oh." Eric was surprised to hear that Buddy covered for him. Then, he sighed. "Well, it still doesn't make it right that I didn't call. If it had been you who was out, I would have been worried about you. It wasn't fair for me to put you in the position of worryin' about me. I promise it won't happen again," he said, staring intently into her blue eyes.

Taking a sip of her wine, Tami admitted, "I was mad, even after I found out you were safe. Eric, I needed you last night. I needed to talk to you about something that happened. And I waited and waited for you. At one point, I even sat outside, waiting for you to come home."

_Ouch._ Upon hearing that, Eric pretty much felt like a heel. He put his arm around the back of the sofa, around his wife's shoulders. "I'm here now. What did you need to talk about?"

"I needed to talk to you last night, not now," she tried to explain. The truth was, she didn't want to broach the subject of a reporter calling her at home and how it caught her off guard. Like her husband, she was mentally and emotionally spent. It was Saturday night, and all she wanted to do was to escape the cruelties of her life as Principal of Dillon High.

Tami laid her head on her husband's strong shoulder. "Tonight, I just need you to be here, Hon," she said. "That's all."

"C'mere," he answered, holding her closer to him and kissing the top of her head. "I can do that."

Tami smiled for she had missed her husband the past few days. "Did you eat dinner? I saved you some meatloaf if you want to make a sandwich."

"I grabbed somethin' on the way home, but thank you," he said, relishing the fact that he had his best friend in his arms. "Where's Gracie?" he asked.

"She's sleeping. She didn't get a nap today, and she was one tired little girl," Tami spoke into her husband's chest. "I'm tired, too. I didn't sleep very well last night."

Eric let out a long sigh. "That makes three of us," his eyes were closed. His back had been stiff all day from sleeping on the sofa. "You wanna turn in early tonight?" he whispered in her ear.

Tami put her wine glass down on the end table, wrapped her arms around her husband's waist, and gave him a long, sleepy, passionate kiss. "Come on, Sugar. Let's go to bed." She led him to their bedroom, closing the door behind her.

_Fin-_


End file.
